


The Skeleton and the Angel

by ParanoidGarbage



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParanoidGarbage/pseuds/ParanoidGarbage
Summary: A collection of times that Credence met with Mr. Graves and a study of the evolution of their relationship over time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas, grvve.tumblr.com and obscurials.tumblr.com!!  
> Also posted to my writing blog, paranoidteenagegarbage.tumblr.com.   
> Want updates on my writing progress? Check out my twitter @OllieDollie23!

Credence had met Graves for the first time on a blustery winter morning, wind threatening to tear the fliers he had been handing out from his thin, trembling fingers. Having no gloves, Credence’s fingers were nearly numb as he clung to the stack, sticking out one hand to passers by in an attempt to gain their attention and spread the word of the New Salem Movement. Each child was given a set number of fliers to hand out that would be carefully counted by Mary Lou before they left and upon arrival home, the amount missing being what determined the size of their dinner that night, but today things were not looking good for Credence. His younger sister, Chastity, was much more outgoing than he, passionately shouting stock phrases in a booming voice to rival that of Mary Lou’s and all but forcing the poor commuters to take her fliers as they slouched past, unhappily hurrying to work. _No time for propaganda_ , Credence thought sadly as he looked down at the thick stack he held, _not when there’s real work to be done._

Chastity would surely get a steaming, full bowl as usual. Credence needed to step it up if he had a hope of getting more than a half ladle of porridge that night.

He decided to try talking to the pedestrians like Chastity, choosing to show them how important the Second Salem would be instead of simply frightening them. That would be most effective, right?

“There are--” Credence stops to clear his throat, voice croaking out rustily at first, “There are witches among us. These powerful beings are..capable of things that we do not understand and pose a threat to our way of life.” _How do they do that, exactly?_

Credence didn't know. He whimpered and shook as a particularly harsh gust blew through him. He needed to hand these out, and fast. What did Ma say was bad about witches? Power, threatening...ah, she used lots of personal examples. References to war.

A bemused voice and a pair of very well polished shoes derailed Credence’s train of thought.  
“Just how do these witches threaten our way of life? What powers do they have?” Credence hazards a glance upwards, finding the feet to belong to an older man with a quirked eyebrow and a curious smile playing at his lips. Credence could not think of a damn thing to tell him.

“If--if your sons and daughters were to go to school with a witch, they would be forced to learn alongside someone with an unfair advantage,” Credence began nervously, trying to remember the lines that had been drilled into his head day after day but were currently evading him.

The man laughed. “Unfair advantage? How would magic--” another strong gust of wind caused both Credence and the man to shiver. “Why don’t we discuss this elsewhere? I have a lot of questions. Can you come with me to get some coffee?”

 _He...really wants to hear about it?_ Credence was amazed. If he could maybe convince this man to join their cause, then he would be the star boy and he’d surely get fed at least as well as Chastity. Maybe better! He nodded and followed the man into a nearby cafe, savoring the feeling of warmth that enveloped him as they stepped inside.

“You’ve got to be cold, boy, standing out there all morning.”

Credence was startled. How would the man know that he’d been there all morning? He looked up in wonder, mouth falling slightly agape.

The man chuckled, “Don’t worry son, I’ve not been tracking you or anything. My office has a view of the street, just about where you were standing.” The man hummed and scratched his chin, turning to look at the cafe’s menu, “Let’s see...a boy like you doesn't need coffee, it’ll stunt your growth. No, I think you’d like a hot chocolate. What do you say?”

“I shouldn't, sir,” Credence looked back down to his dull leather shoes, “It’s much too decadent.”

“Nonsense,” the man huffed, clapping Credence on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “You’re frozen solid. You’re having a hot chocolate.”

_Oh. What will mother say?_

The older man ordered for both of them and went to sit down at a booth, gesturing for Credence to sit across from him. “Now,” the man groaned as he sat, likely due to the aches and pains of age being aggravated by the poor weather, “Tell me more about these witches.”

Credence nodded, eyes fixated on the man’s hands folded on the table, “They present a threat to our way of life, in school and in work, and i--in war. The witches have powers we do not understand, and which give them advantages over us in all areas of life. Imagine your hard earned wages, sir, being taken by a witch who can do your job with a wa--wave of her wand.” Credence glanced up to find the man studying his face, eyes roaming over the pallid plains of his cheeks and brow furrowing with displeasure at whatever he found there. Credence looked back down at the table, shoulders coming to touch his ears. He stammered, struggling to recollect himself after finding the older man to be examining him with such concentration, but the arrival of their drinks soon saved Credence the trouble of speaking. He looked warily at the steaming mug set in front of him, as Graves dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee and began to stir in a healthy portion of cream.

_Perhaps this man wouldn’t notice if I didn’t drink any? But that would be rude…_

The boy hazarded another glance upward to find with relief that Graves was looking out the window now. Credence decided that it would only upset the man if his gift was left untouched, so he bravely grabbed the mug and took a sip.

The drink was sweet and creamy. Credence burnt his tongue.


End file.
